Labels
by peachandbetty
Summary: She had only heard of him, never seen him; Uchiha Itachi, genius, brother and Konoha's hospital's most elusive patient. But after being able to put a face to the name, one label replaced all others: Closet tease. ItaSaku, min SasuSaku, M for future lemons
1. Prologue

AN Foreword

Haven't written fanfiction since I was 16! Holy profanity! Four freaking years! A lot of peoples, myself included, have been bitching and I'm sure cutting their hair in Sakura-esque ways about the lack of non-massacre fanfiction. So, I figured I'd top whining about it and contribute to the fandom I've been leeching off of for the last year and a something.

Warnings: Non-massacre AR/AU. Most likely will lemon in later stages. Hints at smexual things throughout. OOC Itachi (because in this reality he is NOT a clan-killing bad-arse). Tomato and dango abuse. Also, I'm British, so please don't flame me for using Oxford grammar/spellings.

Pairings: Itasaku, minor Sasusaku and others just randomly dispersed.

Genre: Romance/friendship Rated: M.

Summary: She'd only ever heard of him through word of mouth: Itachi, the village's genius, Itachi, Sasuke's brother, Itachi, Konoha hospital's most elusive patient. But being able to put a face to the name replaced all those prior labels with one: Itachi, closet tease. And it fascinated her.

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. If I did, Itachi would still be alive and pole dancing at the Itachi FC.

MAJOR THANKS TO KRICKITAT FOR HER AMAZING BETA SKILLZ!

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_In a room there is a candle, a fireplace and a lantern. With only one match, what do you light first? Hm_, she thought. _Who on earth asks these questions?_ Whomever it was she would like to personally shake their hands for single-handedly putting her in a bigger state of frustration than her periods tended to.

After glancing at the question almost tauntingly bold on the old magazine for one last time, she threw the thing back on the small coffee table in the ward waiting room and folded her arms with a sigh.

Sasuke was late. He was never late. She's started to wonder whether her old teacher's tardiness was a disease her boyfriend had unfortunately tagged from over-exposure. _All of the medics in the world couldn__'__t cure that plague, Kami help us, _she thought with a grunt.

Just as she was about make a show about storming out of the hospital, she heard nurses come in through the ward entrance, giggling and flushing all in the name of Uchiha Sasuke. _Well, now I know he__'__s in the building. _True to form, Sasuke's graceful self came trailing not far behind.

"You're late, Sasuke. I was just about to declare you MIA." She greeted with an irritation-laced smirk.

Sasuke was used to this by now, so she hadn't expected a response settling quite nicely for his obligatory peck on the cheek and possessive arm working its way around her waist to steer her out and away from the cause of her initial frustration. _I__'__ll be damned if I pick that one up again!_

Walking down the familiar streets to Ichiraku (where she didn't doubt Naruto was blowing their last mission pay), she glanced over at Sasuke. It felt a bit strange. He was quiet, but usually had _something _to say to her when they hadn't seen each other for a fortnight. Even if it was to ask generic questions so she could babble away, thus avoiding the uncomfortable silences so like the one she was experiencing now.

Putting it out of her mind for now, they rounded the corner to see Naruto…half-naked and…feeling himself …up. Hm. _Happy homecoming Sasuke, Naruto wants to give you a strip tease. Enjoy. _She thought with a grimace. Even at 17, Naruto had all the social propriety of a one year old.

"NARUTO, put your clothes on idiot! There are ladies present! Why on earth are you dancing like a stripper with a rash!?" Naruto stopped immediately, only just aware of the blushing genin girls and scowling older women getting their free peep show.

"She's right, dobe. Nobody wants to see your scrawny little self. Cover up" Sasuke added with the smirk she had fallen for. _The universal smirk: good for annoyance, superiority complex and bedroom eyes. Patented to Uchiha Sasuke._

And then came the fireworks. She tuned the world out just as Naruto screeched something about loosing his ramen coupon and turned her thoughts to something more soothing…like the magazine she now felt guilty for abusing.

Turning on her heel, she walked back down the market road towards her apartment, topping only to call over her shoulder.

"I'll be at home if you need healing, Sasuke-baka." She smiled to herself as she turned into the residential side-roads. Sasuke would never, and has never, be too absorbed in the long-standing rivalry between heir team-mate to miss what 'healing' meant.

So it was with a light skip in her step and a contagious smile that seemed to make even the flowers more colourful, she made her way across the park to prepare her humble abode for…healing.

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Four hours later, sixteen jasmine and sandalwood candles and a brand new silk negligee later (and well into the darkness hours), 'healing' didn't seem to be necessary. The problem was, with Sasuke, it was _always_ necessary.

She wouldn't overreact. She didn't _want _to overreact. He probably just felt tired from his mission and needed sleep more than her intimate company. Overreacting would be illogical.

_He didn__'__t even say goodnight__…_

Something in her stomach twisted at that thought. After four years of being together, Sasuke had made it a point to make sure he was the last thing she thought of when she went to bed. Even if it meant sending one of his cat summons he always made sure she was thinking of him. It's sad in a romantic way that may look possessive to others, but he was just being Sasuke.

Sighing, she reached over to her bedside to turn off her lamp. She couldn't. It was like going to bed knowing you've left the door unbolted. Incomplete. Restless. She withdrew her hand from the switch and ran it through her hair.

Something was wrong with Sasuke if he forgot his Uchiha male pride and neglected his woman. She knew she wouldn't sleep unless she found out what.

She cycled this thought through her head as she dressed and headed out through her front door to the Uchiha estate.

Then why did she feel like she was taking a trip to the gallows?

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Uchiha Itachi wasn't one to behave recklessly. As an ANBU captain, he was expected to act in the most utilitarian way for the benefit of the mission, for his team and ultimately for his village. It was paramount that he be available in the peak of his condition at all times.

Which was why he was currently having an intense, no blows drawn all-out glaring contest with his cousin from his seat on the table across the kitchen. At midnight, he should be asleep preparing to meet the dawn with grace and energy and completely revitalized.

An impossible task for one in his position. For in front of him stood the greatest foe he had ever encountered. One he had once considered a companion of sorts. If he kept him any longer from his goal, he no longer would be anything but an obstacle.

"Itachi, I've told you. I'm on your Father's orders. Dango isn't good for you, especially at midnight. How about a tomato? Sasuke likes them." Shisui was standing in front of his goal, arms folded with all the big brother air he could muster, which isn't much and hasn't been ever since Itachi beat him to captaincy.

Looking him in the eyes, with his ever-present cool, Itachi counted on his fingers. "Firstly, since when have you ever taken such orders seriously? Secondly, I haven't had any sugars today. If anything, you should be happy I'm not compensating with the sugar keg. Thirdly, tomatoes have no nutritional value which brings me to my fourth point: Sasuke has no taste."

With an unwavering promise of retribution in his eyes if his friend did not move, Shisui smirked in his usual laid-back cockiness so typical of an Uchiha. Itachi returned it, fingering his kunai in anticipation before turning his head sharply towards the roof.

"Well," Shisui spoke for him, "it looks like we'll have to call a truce. Seriously though, who on earth would try to infiltrate the house of the Uchiha head?"

Itachi's thoughts exactly. Whoever it was, she was unfortunate. Had Shisui and himself not been up at unusual hours, they would have been caught unawares. _Not bad._

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Landing on the rooftop she bit back a curse her mother would have spanked her for a few years back as her heel scraped a loose slate. She'd only ever been to the estate once, and even then only to heal a distant cousin of Sasuke's on the other side of the large complex. Lifting her eyes from her offending heel to the view before her, she couldn't help but think that in this labyrinth of buildings that housed one of the strongest clans in the shinobi world, that she was well and truly in over her head.

First of all she had no clue _where _exactly Sasuke resided in this ridiculously complex site, though she had deduced as the son of the head he would be relatively central. Secondly, though she hadn't thought about this until her heel had awakened such anxieties, neither Sasuke or his family would likely greet her warmly for interrupting their slumber.

They weren't too keen on her as it was, from what she had deduced; Sasuke had never let her into the complex or felt it necessary to introduce her to his family. It was a sad thing really, for him to be ashamed of her. Yet as harsh as it sounded, she had grown to accept it. She wasn't, after all, a shinobi by birth and Uchiha were very adamant about keeping shinobi blood within their walls.

She broke out of her thoughts as she felt a spark of familiar chakra, faint in an obvious state of rest, flow softly beneath her. Dropping down from the rooftop, wincing again as her heel released its pressure from that unfortunately placed slate, she found herself in a small courtyard, all still but for a small and charming water-feature near the koi pond.

There on the raised board walk was Sasuke, sleeping lightly with his shirt tucked under his head.

She gave a wistful sigh as she looked down on his moonlight form. Sasuke had always been attractive, almost feminine in his look. In her younger academy years, she had once found herself jealous of his natural grace and classic style of beauty. A calm feeling of déjà vu washed over her as she sat carefully down beside his resting head and stroked his hair from his soft face with a feathery touch.

His brow creased as he picked up on her delicate touch and slowly opened his tired right eye to look into her smiling jade ones.

She'd expected his eyes to soften as he acknowledged her, to silently make it known that his waking was a pleasant one, if untimely. He'd, after all, once told her that were it up to him she would be the _only _thing he would wake up to.

So when she saw a mixture of anger and panic that made her stomach twist itself unpleasantly, she quickly withdrew her hand from his face and shifted away from him to allow his rushed ascent.

Looking her fiercely in the eye in a way that made her heart race, he puller her to her feet roughly by the arm. She could have cried. Not from the pain. Never form the pain. But from knowing that this was the first time he had ever shown her any animosity. She felt like…

"You shouldn't be here. Leave. Now." he whispered harshly as he pulled her roughly to a small footpath leading to the main street.

…_an intruder. _

Ignoring the tight feeling in her throat that almost denied her voice, Sakura tore her arm from his grip and faced him. "I'd come to put things right, wherever they had gone wrong in the first place. Something was obviously bothering you today, Sasuke. I couldn't rest knowing that, but even more so knowing that you felt you needed to keep it from me. You've…always confided in me."

The shaken timbre of her voice at that last word visibly softened features he was ashamed to call harsh. It was no fault of hers and he shouldn't treat it as such. But, knowing what he had to eventually tell her, it was easier to be harsh than it was to be sympathetic. So he steeled himself.

"That cannot be the case anymore. This was going to wait until morning but I think you need to know this now."

Before she had left her apartment, she had felt a weight of pure dread press down on her for no apparent reason, and with each step towards the Uchiha compound she took it had only seemed to increase, forcing doubt to surface her once resolute mind. But she had chosen to ignore it. Without a reason, there was no logic. With reason now making itself known to her in front of her very eyes, she wanted nothing more than to shield herself from it.

"I'm at marrying age. My clan will soon be expecting me to chose a wife to bring before them, someone they can accept into their numbers and entrust their secrets."

She couldn't close her eyes. She tried, but the way he held her gaze kept her from doing so, depriving her of her reprieve. So instead, her eyes shrouded themselves in a thin layer of wet, clinging protectively to her lid as though to make reason blur itself. Without reason, there was no logic. No reality.

"Sakura. They will not accept you."

Each word of his final sentence felt served to coax her shroud apart, and warm tears fell away to bleed darkly onto her shirt.

Seeing her cry at his expense was something he had spent four years on eggshells trying to prevent. To see it now made something inside him dull, like the will of fire itself had been coaxed down to an ember. _But it__'__s necessary._

She tried to raise her stinging orbs to his, to find any sign of amusement that clever, always so clever, Sasuke had a loophole to the nth predicament they had found themselves in during their friendship, partnership and camaraderie.

But they refused. They would not allow her to see the blank look of deadened warmth in his ashen eyes. To see that would be to lose everything from him. She was used to losses, but she would not lose him entirely. She would fight to her grave for the Sasuke that she shared with her blonde haired team-mate. Her friend.

So, eyes kept to the ground, she walked past him out into the silent street, each step putting the last four years of genuine love and affection further behind her.

And Sasuke, for the first time in his life, was less than professional as a shinobi as a tear rolled down lines of anguish on his usually controlled face. _A shinobi must never show his emotions._

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Deep coal eyes followed the pinkette out of the Uchiha gate and as her silhouette banished itself from his vision, he looked down as his brother, movements sullen and lacklustre, re-entered the courtyard from the alley.

He'd known about his Father's stern words to Sasuke the night before last. He'd received the same talk around the same age and had thought nothing of it when his brother was called to a private room with Fugaku after dinner that night.

Had he anticipated that Sasuke had already involved himself with a love interest, he would have intervened. The burden of the head family should fall to the heir and heir alone. It was his to carry.

As the shoji screen leading to Sasuke's room closed with a soft tap, Itachi released his genjutsu and made his way back to his own.

There would be no repairing the damage now. The look in the pinkette's brilliant emerald orbs had visibly dissipated from a beautifully fierce passion he had found himself very drawn to (a look that he could see would capture his brother's attention in the same way) to a look that he had felt a strange compulsion to turn away from.

She was expressive for a shin obi. Most likely a civilian born. And then it clicked into place his brother's reason for damaging something so precious to him. But he did not pity his brother. He did not pity the girl either.

He pitied the clan that had once again found themselves in the face of something genuinely beautiful, willing to grace them, and had for all their magnificent vision failed to see it.

"You're wrong Itachi," Shisui's deep baritone came from behind him, "Sasuke's taste seems quite on the mark, if you ask me."

And for the first time in his life, Itachi found himself and his cousin in complete agreement.

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AN.

That was hugely more depressing than I had intended. But I promise this is about as depressing as it gets. Yes, I'm _starting _with angst and making my way to warmth and sunshine. :P

I'd like reviews, but I'm not going to pester you for them. They might help the process along though.

Next time: Itachi's dirty little secret.


	2. Chapter 1

AN: foreword

I got such a great response to chapter one and so quickly! I'm sorry I couldn't get it to you guys sooner. I did actually write is a day after I posted the prologue but I wasn't happy with it so I did some major tweaking. Plus, exams are killing me.

See prologue for warnings and summary.

Standard disclaimer and all that jazz.

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The Uchiha clan were known primarily for their inherent power: that which comes in comes in the form of their bright red orbs, the colour of blood, and then in the form of their social discipline, as colourful as the world to the blind.

Uchiha Itachi was known primarily for his place in this clan of so much power. He always did the right thing, said the right thing and acted on the utilitarian ideals of the clan, never for himself. Those who would dare would call him a perfect pawn…

…Those people would be wrong.

Like any human being with their minds in tact, Uchiha Fugaku, despite his teachings of absolute restriction, had a vice, albeit a small one. When his wife, Mikoto, was asleep he would walk silently into his living area and sit on the third tatami mat along the furthest wall and gingerly lift up its neighbour, careful of course to be wary of intruding eyes, and in pulling out what hides beneath it commit a sin against his own philosophies.

To Uchiha Fugaku, a strong malty fiery whisky after a long day of cats in trees and missing nik-naks was a sin willingly committed and thoroughly earned.

The apple never did fall far from the tree. Which was why, in a village full of ninja, Uchiha Itachi walked down the market road with the unremarkable short brown hair and eyes that formed the genjustu cloaking him.

Walking casually down the wide market street he came by the familiar enclosure surrounding his target, filled with wicker chairs and wooden benches in service of the patrons. Yes, the dango shop was a place for the Uchiha to infiltrate with absolute caution.

Pushing the commercial flaps aside as he entered, he quickly scanned the area for any potential foil to his plans. Not surprisingly, he found nothing out of place other than that the bin badly needed emptying. Nobody remarkable visited the dango shop on this side of Konoha; too many civilians and their annoying habit of tip-toeing around their shinobi neighbours.

Sitting down on a stool next to the counter he made eye contact with the owner who in turn nodded to him. He had been coming to this shop since before his brother was born, so the owner was used to seeing Itachi's plain alter-ego and immediately prepared his usual order of hanami dango. It was an unwritten agreement that the man was silent in exchange for Itachi keeping his squad-mate, or 'that Anko woman', away from his shop. As part of his Anbu team, it took only a stern look and a promise to suitably reimburse her to keep the eccentric woman at bay.

Reaching out to grab his order, Itachi was startled to see another hand seize his prize and move it away from his proximity. Turning around, ready to confront the owner of the offending dango-stealing hand, he met bright jade eyes and a flare of bright pink.

Itachi never forgot a face, and no man alive would forget hers, with the clash of colours that burned themselves into his retinas. Oh no, Itachi would never forget the face of the woman six months ago discarded by his little brother.

"Sorry about that. I thought that was my order. I was in a bit of a hurry so I must have rushed things a little." She smiled at him through her small apologetic bow and he found any surfacing annoyance at her intrusion very quickly subside, as if they hadn't existed at all. He took the bag she offered to him, grateful he wouldn't have to wait around in civilian territory for much longer, and moved to pay the vendor.

Until he found his right arm, previously reaching for the wallet in his pocket, restrained by her own. About to ask her what she was up to, he immediately closed his mouth again when he saw a small frown on her once lighted face. How was it possible for one person to exhibit so much emotion in one go, let alone two completely contrasting emotions?

"I'm sorry, have I done something to offend you, miss?" He chose his words carefully. From the little he knew of the small pinkette kunoichi, she was very expressive and although responds with admirable durability to anything that could threaten her well-being, he knew that making any female angry, sad or otherwise less than happy in public would result in some very unwanted attention.

Her expression changed almost in a split second to that of giggling mirth, seemingly at his expense much to his surprise, as she waggled her finger at him in a way he was sure his mother had done when he was a child.

"It's rude to ignore someone when they're apologising to you." That…he hadn't expected. She'd gone from apologetic to smiling to offended to teasing in the space of a minute. Itachi wondered how Sasuke, with an upbringing very similar to his own, had managed to keep up with the girl.

"So, as an apology to _me_, you get to introduce yourself. I don't think I've seen you around here before…shinobi-san." Itachi's eyes very nearly widened at the sheer shock of her statement before years of steeling himself for such situations prevented it. But, she seemed to have caught it. Four years with his brother had obviously had her well versed in the subtleties of non-existent expression, or lack thereof. There would be no point in hiding himself to her now.

"Ah, you have great talent in the art of genjutsu, kunoichi-san." He replied, using her own faux-polite tone against her. After seeing her expression change more times than is healthy for any shinobi, he really shouldn't have been surprised at her reaction to his subtle teasing. As Anbu, he should have well known the reaction of a Konoha shinobi upon finding a ninja within the village who would find need to stay under a genjutsu cloak. _A threat._

The girl smiled at him, this time lacking the pure brightness she seemed to constantly arm herself with and saw instead what he perceived to be a trace of…malice?

"I think we should enjoy these dango together today, don't you shinobi-san? There is a field just north of here _away _from the townfolk." She was very efficient in her duty, he mused. Her actions and intentions were very clear to him, to lure him away from possible harm to the village in order to capture him, yet to any passer-by, she was flirting with him, enticing him to a romantic liaison. He found it utterly ironic that while he had been taught expression to be a weakness, this girl was utilising hers to a distinct advantage.

Watching her silently as she one again pried the box of dango from his hands, he followed her out of the small stall and smiled inwardly at her choice of direction. _Training ground 5. Anbu trainees._ So she was planning her entrance into Anbu? That would explain why she was in an area most shinobi avoided like the plague. He briefly wondered if her ever-close team were aware of her ambitions? From what he had heard of team seven from his brother or from general talk, it wasn't likely: she seemed like the girl that valued what little independence she could get in a group of overbearing males and letting them in on such information would likely ruin that simple ideal.

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Upon reaching the clearing of the familiar grounds she turned to him, mask of faux-playfulness gone and replaced entirely with something he expected from his recruits. An air of strength mingled with a silent promise of severe bodily harm. He smirked to himself. She would be a fine Anbu.

"Drop your jutsu. There are none to see you here but myself. Be warned that if you cannot identify yourself as a Konoha shinobi, this place will very quickly become one of battle." Her voice was steely and commanding, and were he any lesser man he was sure he would have felt the immediate physiological need to obey.

He hesitated, however, to do as she asked. His insignificant vice for sweets was something his Father had been trying to condition out of him for years now and lately with a lot more vigour. It would be troublesome indeed for him if he were to be identified. If word got out about it, this small little quirk that for others would be barely noticeable but to him were a devastating flaw in what is perceived far and wide to be flawless, his Father, clan and superiors alike would never let him live it out. As it was, his leash was shortening by the inch as the day of his succession grew near.

This ridiculous looking kunzite, with colourings that were far from practical for a shinobi but yet with skills and airs that spoke of talents simmering far below the surface, had the key to his downfall. Blackmail material.

"Do you think you can keep a secret, kunoichi-san?" The girl almost looked startled at his reply, but instead steeled her facial expressions to the blunt straightness he often opted for.

"Your face cannot be so terrifying, shinobi-san. But, as you wish. What is it you want me to keep secret?" He felt her defences rise. She was obviously expecting him to pull a surprise jutsu on her. _A wise assumption to make. Never trust._

"If you do not identify me as Konoha nin you may take me and I will give myself freely. But if my identity as a Konoha nin becomes apparent, you must swear you will tell nobody that you saw me today or any day." Her defences did not lower one bit. _She is very wise. She is not easily mislead. _

"Agreed. Now lower it and provide identification." Usually, at this point his mind would be screaming at him to take his own advice, and never trust. But this girl, with her emotions that could go so easily from being read like book to being encrypted behind layers of sealed scroll, had one feature eternally present on her demeanour. _Honesty. Foolish and admirable honesty._

He saw her face work its way from the straight lines of displeasure to the widened eyes and open mouth of disbelief as he detangled the web of his disguise. So she recognised him…

"My apologies, Uchiha-san. You understand my need to bring you out here? But…" Ah, she recognised his features, the dark colourings and sharp aristocratic features famously generic in his clan, rather than his relation to her team-mate or as her pending superior. He felt a pang of something unpleasant at that. She recognised his _clan_.

"…if I may ask, why were you disguised? To buy dango no less?" He almost smirked at the irony. Were it any other Uchiha caught buying sweets in disguise, they would be given an odd look and maybe be on the receiving end of some light 'sweet-tooth' jokes, and for once in his life _he_ was that Uchiha.

"My name is Itachi, Haruno-san. My reasons are somewhat private and, as I'm sure you have realised by my extracting an oath from you, must remain that way. I assume I'm not going to be taking a trip into custody anytime today?"

Sakura visibly lightened, radiance beaming her smile once more. "Itachi-san? Would that make you Sasuke-san's brother? He talks about you a lot. But…how did you know who I was?"

Itachi noticed her use of more polite suffux in his brother's name and pondered on the status of their relationship. He knew his brother had loved this kunoichi dearly, always seeing a smile behind his eyes after a night noticeably not spent in the family home, or after long training sessions with his team. He had noticed, after his discovery six months prior, the smile consistently absent from his brother's eyes and couldn't help but understand now that perhaps the girl' addictive warmth was like a drug and Sasuke was, _and still is,_ feeling the withdrawal effects.

"You cannot really believe that I would be ignorant of my brother's company, Sakura-san? My brother is important to me, and so his important people become secondary to my own. Though I have not had the pleasure before today, I had hoped to meet you."

He thought at first he had said something wrong, triggering that volatile switch to her emotions he had thought on earlier in the day as her face turned blank. Behind her eyes, he could see he had done just that, as flashes of pain still raw even from months of receiving the wound that caused it appeared from behind her green hues.

"Forgive me. I hadn't meant to open a sore topic." This was, he realised, one of the few times he had said those words, 'forgive me', and truly meant them. As much as emotional Sakura confused him and as much as confusion was an uncomfortable feeling for him, he did not like the eerie coldness that appeared as she tried to push back those traces of hurt. It was almost as though for this one kunoichi, whose profession demands emotional reservation as the norm, the norm was…abnormal. Unnatural.

"Not at all, Itachi-san. There will be no arrest, don't worry. You're secret safe with me. Good morning, Itachi-san."

And with that she turned on her heel, with a smile over her shoulder holding not even a fraction of her previous vigour, and walked back into the village.

In his distraction, turning thoughts of his brother and the intriguing girl he had just become acquainted with in his head as he walked in direction of the Anbu headquarters, the sugary cause of his eventful morning left abandoned for the animals to enjoy.

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AN

Wow. This didn't turn out as I thought it would. I was going for more light-hearted but I think this works better. After all, they don't know each other yet, Itachi for all his sugar eating way is still an Uchiha, and Sakura would obviously still be feeling the effects of a four-year relationship sunk. In Sex and the City it was said that it takes half the time of your relationship to get over it. Sex and the City is law. But I'm happy with it…sorta.

Thank you all for your reviews in the prologue! I know I don't deserve them for taking so freaking long to post this, so they were really appreciated. X

Next time: Sakura enlists the aid of a How To book.


	3. Chapter 2

-1AN. OMG. Okay. First off, I am soooo sorry for not updating in ages. I've been travelling a lot around mainland Europe and the times where I was online were dedicated to chatting with people at home.

But now I am home, with no school or job. All I have is my social life, which while may be busy, is not so much that I cannot update.

So, lame excuses aside, onwards!

**Chapter 2: A Common Ground**

Ever since she was twelve, Sakura had been humbled by her own sense of gratitude towards the woman she considered a mentor, a master and a mother. It seemed that every time she looked into Tsunade's brilliant amber eyes and admired the sheer strength that exudes from her mature and beautiful body, like a pillar that held all of Konoha on its girth, her own small frame filled with what could only be described as…drive.

She felt the drive to be a worthwhile student to this woman who had chosen her of all people to be the heir to her advanced techniques. To be a worthwhile daughter to this woman who had none of her own, and never would have, but had chosen her to envelop with a maternal warmth that by all rights _should _have gone to one of her own. To this woman who she sometimes felt she had no right to be associated with, having come to her at a tender age, begging her to help her rectify her own failures, the memory of being told by those that she loved that she would never make Chuunin, a sentence that under the shadows and between the lines held only one meaning for her.

She would be left behind. And so, for this woman, for her Hokage, she was humbled and was grateful for it.

But, carrying a pile of thick bound books a head taller than herself with a large pack of tightly wound, grotesquely large scrolls on her slight frame, she wondered if one could be humbled _too _far.

Trudging down the road to the Konoha main library in large strides, pedestrians darted out of her path in an attempt to evade the mass of moving literature and the suffocating waves of sheer malice that promised painful retribution to those who dare impede her that seemed to ooze from every plane of her body.

Upon reaching the main door Sakura let of a stream of violently audible curses. WHY hadn't she remembered before embarking on her errand that the main door was not only impossible large and heavy, but _pulled _open?! She had the sudden urge to just kick the blasted thing down with her Shishou's own technique. _That _would be an irony she would be all too willing to appreciate.

Instead, she took a few deep calming breaths before tapping the toes of her foot against the door (though still slightly harder than necessary) in what was supposed to be a knock, before quickly replacing her foot on the ground before she toppled over under the weight of her load.

A few minutes later, when nobody had seen fir to answer her call, she almost growled. Of course nobody would be there. Everyone else was at the festival with their families, playing silly games and eating finger food and wearing pretty yukatas to impress their doting lovers who bought them stuffed animals and held them as they watched fireworks and had absolutely no scrolls on their slowly breaking backs. With their doting…lovers…

Sakura's muscles seemed to lose their density as memories of a festival a few years back wormed their way into the front of her mind. Sasuke had said those words to her that day, those she had longed to hear though she already knew them. She felt herself shudder as memory's sweet illusions cast his warm breath teasingly across her ear, her eyes drifting shut as his arms kept her back against his strong chest. _I love you, Sakura. _

Sharply opening her eyes she released a tear she hadn't even realised she had built, the clattering noises of the busy world all of a sudden apparent to her after the soothing, wave-like calmness of the one she had regressed to just second before.

And another tear fell as she realised, not for the first time, that she would never get that feeling back.

Bending her head down to wipe the offending droplets on her shoulders, she kicked the door again, just a little harder in her renewed aggravation.

"If anyone _is _in there, you'd better hide you lazy selves before I get a hold of you!" she threatened, but the effect somewhat diminished by the slight husk in her throat that unwittingly accompanied her unbidden tears.

With a load groan, she tried to manoeuvre herself to hoop her little finger around the door handle, giving a pained curse as it bent backwards under the stress, but managed to pull the door enough to wedge her foot in between it.

Prising the rest open with her foot she nearly rushed over gracelessly to the nearest help desk to alleviate the pain in every muscle of her body as soon as possible, especially her now strained finger.

Dropping the books on the desk with a loud _thunk_ and the sack on her back with another (which narrowly missed her aching foot) she nearly collapsed, feeling for a moment like she was weightless. Glaring down at the scrolls as a slight move enticed a loud _pop_ from her back, she gave it a bitter kick. Honestly, she would just be glad to see this whole bloody day end.

Rolling her shoulders to work out the kinks, she stepped out from behind the pile of books to talk face to face with the librarian who by now must be slightly distressed with her…behaviour. She felt sorry for the woman, but those books were _her _problem now.

Only to see there was no woman. In fact, she found as she looked around for any sign of the blue of the librarian uniform, there was no life in the library period. Not even a pigeon fluttering in the high stone archways. Not even a moth dancing around the usually turned on reading lights that hung from the ceiling. Not a single shadow flickered in the dust flecked sunbeams, except her own.

Had _everyone _gone to the festival except for her? Did _everyone _have someone to share their happy times with, except for her? Obviously so!

Giving one last contemptuous look at the door, she picked up four scrolls from her pack. She supposed if a job needed to be done it needed to be done. It wasn't as though she had anything else to do, she thought bitterly, so she may as well start with the scroll archives.

The scroll archives were furthest from the entrance, and she had always secretly appreciated that. Sakura had spent a lot of her time around scrolls, being a bit of a self-admitted scroll-worm. People tended to go for books, with their modern twist and easier print and language, but she personally though that the best information came from the primary source where things are not watered down and parts that are seemingly useless but discreetly full of 'between the lines' style inferences are no omitted.

She even had a spot in the archive where she liked to crawl into when her mentor got just a little bit overbearing. Tsunade, after all, wouldn't be caught dead in the library herself, she thought with a grimace.

Upon placing the last of her four scrolls in its rightful slot on the wooden frame, she jumped back down and let out a deep relieved sigh. That was four down, ten scrolls and a twenty six books to go. But first, she would relax a bit. Her muscles were slowly starting to turn to jelly and threatened to give out completely if she didn't heed their warning.

Making her way through the stacks, she reached her destination at the northwest corner of the library. It wasn't much, but it was essentially hers. There was a small work desk which before she had discovered it had seemed unused, an old wooden chair with a creaky leg that she had furnished with cushions and on the floor a jumbled mismatched array of pillows, cushions, beanbags and quilts in a variety of bold and unbending colours that she had refused to grace her own home with. She didn't care what Ino said, green and pink did not go. She didn't even like it on herself.

She almost squealed with delight as she took in the inviting look of puffiness and promises of soft embracing comfort of her jumble and skipping over to it, she threw herself down on it to be swallowed up by its fluffy mass.

Only to feel her bottom come into contact with something hard, big and definitely not fluffy with a harsh thud and what she thought was a crunch. Upon hearing the thing give an audible groan she screeched and scrambled through the multicoloured jumble to find her feet, failing and tripping over a blanket twisted around her ankles back into the pile.

This time, the thing had a voice. A very distinct, very masculine and very _pained _voice. Stopping her struggling, she untwisted one of the blankets in an attempt find what hid underneath.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't realise there was someone here! Are you ok?!" She finally removed the final twist and immediately started checking over the area where her buttocks (which were rather firm, she proudly noted) had harshly contacted his body.

"I wouldn't be much of a shinobi if said otherwise, would I now Haruno-san." A smooth and rich voice replied, laced with subtle amusement.

Snapping her head up to the face of her victim, she found herself looking into deep pools of pure endless onyx that threatened to trap her in a gaze she wasn't sure anyone would willingly leave.

And just before her mind went blank with shock she heard very clearly her inner voice's screeching echo through the crevices of her mind: _we've just butt-crushed Uchiha Itachi!_

She was fairly certain she'll regret waking up that morning.

* * *

Endnote: Ok. I know it was short but there is a reason for it. This whole chapter will take a mighty length that I just can't configure in one day lol. But the rest should come next week some time.

I'm going to be hypocritical now. After actually getting reviews, I find that I _like_ reviews. So I'm going to ask you, please do so. It gives me an idea on whether or not I should bother continuing. Wow, I sound moany, lol.

To those who read and especially to those who review, I thank you.

Peach


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don not own. Stop rubbing it in. :C

Warnings: Nothing at this stage except major OOC-ness.

* * *

"U…Uchiha-san!"

The disgruntled captain ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair while half-lidded eyes regarded her lazily, tinted with that trace of amusement she was sure Uchiha practiced in front of a mirror in the mornings.

And to Sakura this was all just too surreal. For one, as ridiculous as it sounded, despite the fact that he had been sleeping it seemed off that his hair was anything less than immaculate let alone _sleep-mussed_. And for second…he was _sleeping _in a public library. In her corner no less!

"Have I undergone some unknowing transformation in my sleep, Haruno-san, or is there another reason you're staring at me so?"

Staring? Startled she realised, yes, she had in fact been staring. Damnit. And Damn him for…he was _sleeping in a library!_

"Keen observation, Haruno-san." His rich timbre broke through her thoughts again. Crap, had she said that out loud?

She could feel the situation becoming very thick very quickly. On the one hand, she could make her apologies, turn around and walk straight back out that hand-destroying door. On the other, she could stay here a moment longer and feel the fabric of reality rip itself a thousand times over with every second she observed a very dishevelled ANBU captain tangled between a pile of old sheets and cushions in a public area.

Oh the choices, she thought sarcastically.

"I apologise again, Uchiha-san. I hadn't expected another to be here. Please excuse me."

Nicely executed. Short, sweet and polite. Satisfied, though still a little buzzed, she turned on her heel to leave…

Only to have the man appear hair tidy and eyes alert in front of her. How did…well, damn.

"I believe this is twice now you've caught me in a compromising situation, Haruno-san. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were _looking_ for potential blackmail material. Of course, I do know better."

The air around her seemed to drop a couple of hundred Fahrenheit at that moment and she was sure it had nothing to do with the air-con. He was right. Their paths seem to keep crossing but when they did she had only dwelt on how said meetings affected her. And even then just briefly. She hadn't even thought what it would mean for him. Of course he had made himself clear with their last meeting that he desired their meeting to be kept confidential. But it was only now she truly realised the scope of it.

Itachi's aura had turned thoroughly dark, threatening and imposing. He wanted this incident to go away and he would do what was necessary to keep it that way. He was right. He did know better. Even If she had intended it, there was not a person alive who would go through with blackmail after experiencing the sheer chill of the man in front of her.

"I…it's just as well you know better, Uchiha-san."

As though nothing had even happened, as if her blood hadn't felt so close to freezing, the air warmed immediately and the man in front of her regarded her with an amicable glint to his aristocratic features. Not quite a smile, not on the lips anyway, but his eyes seemed to portray him so much better than any conventional expression could. Had this same person really indirectly threatened her just seconds prior?

"Your fingers look swollen, Haruno-san. That can't be good for your technique."

Great. He just had to remind her that her fingers hurt. Looking down at them, she barely stifled a gasp. She'd been so distracted by him she had forgotten about them but now she could see that she really should have prioritised better. Her fingers where they had been bent at an awkward angle had swollen at the joint and had begun to turn a dark-red colour. Attractive.

"I…can deal with this later. It's an easy heal. A library is hardly the place." It didn't matter really, but she really just wanted to get out of there.

Itachi seemed to sense this and removed himself from obstructing her exit. Grateful she gave a short polite bow and a quiet "Shitsureshimasu" before moving to walk back down the scroll isles.

Before stopping in her tracks at the sharp sound coming from the man now just behind her.

Sakura mentally slapped herself as she put the pieces together. Copious sugar levels. Fatigue. And now a cough.

He had Kakashi-syndrome. Gross-overwork-and-over-compensation-with-none-of-the-compulsion-to-seek-proper-help-itis. Something she knew from experience could only be cured with an ego-ectemy.

She paused a bit longer for a second just to ponder things over. Was she really about to play doc-knows-best with probably the most intimidating man in Konoha? It wasn't worth it really. He'd probably have all sorts of defences against her iron medic will and even then would probably just infuriate her in the process…

_Cough Cough!_

Sakura spun on her heel as her medic instinct won out. God, damn it all, but he was a sick man and she was a medic and instinct was too far ingrained into her to ignore it.

Walking over to him, _I can't believe I'm doing this,_ she grabbed his forearm before guiding him over to the reading table nearby, prompting him with a light push to sit down in the pulled out chair.

Coming in front of him she almost giggled at the slight look of bemusement on his face, as though he was thoroughly doubting her sanity only to frown again as what seemed like an innocent blink lingered longer than absolutely necessary, as though forcing themselves to reopen.

"You know, people like you, Itachi-san, are the reason we medics seem to complain so much. You seem to enjoy giving us extra work. Now, please hold out your left palm face-up for me and count to ten."

* * *

Itachi-san? Had he heard correctly or had this girl really called him so informally by his first name? And…did she just order him to…

He couldn't quite wrap his head around it, but seeing the look of absolute no-nonsense he decided to indulge her and see where this would lead. She had the look of a woman on a mission and his father had once told him in a very sagely manner that to obstruct that would be paramount to absolute idiocy. An idiot he was not.

Holding out his palm, his brother's old flame pressed two fingers firmly into his pulse-line as he mentally counted to ten before she released him with what seemed like a disappointed _humph._

"Now, open your mouth and tilt your head upwards slightly for me."

He did as she asked, and he found himself surprised by this. Even more surprise by the lack of will he had to resist her, the will he usually to sit when another said jump just because control didn't feel right unless he was the one wielding it.

As her cool hands felt gently along the sides of his throat he realised that it was all part of her notorious talent as a medic.

Closing his mouth he looked to her as she ran a hand through her hair in frustration. Why frustration, he didn't know. He didn't think he'd ever understand women, let alone this little paradox of a kunoichi.

"Diagnosis. You're a workaholic. Your body can't keep up with your mind and as a result your taking in too much nutritional energy to supplement it, which is making your sleep pattern very irregular to the point where your body doesn't even know when it's supposed to be resting. As a result, you've become an insomniac. As a direct consequence of both the psychical and mental stress your body's immune system is beginning to fail. At the moment, you have a bad cold and a slight fever but it's only a matter of time at this rate before you contact Pneumonia. And your body won't have the strength to fight it. Treatment. You will take one day off a week. You will try your absolute hardest to be in bed by midnight and up at seven. Seven hours sleep, Itachi-san. No less. Am I understood or am I going to have to speak to higher authorities over the matter?"

To say Itachi was truly stunned was an understatement. Whatever he had expected to come from this impromptu examination, being berated like a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar was not it. Only his mother had ever spoken to him in such a manner but it was something he tolerated because it was his _mother._

And that's when it clicked. Why he hadn't immediately planned his escape when she had grabbed his arm. Why he hadn't refused her stubborn wish as he would have done in every other situation. She reminded him of his mother. Not physically, of course. She was as far from looking like Mikoto, or any other Uchiha for that matter, as she was from looking like a duck.

But the gleam in her bright emerald eyes, the one that told him that he wasn't as intimidating as he thought he was, that saw through the cleverly and intricately constructed mask and viewed him as the young man in his twenties with a slight penchant for sugary snacks and now, he guessed, a slight mother complex.

And again, he found himself closer to understanding what had drawn his Otouto to this girl…no, woman. What had allowed those three words of devotion to spill from his usually proud mouth. And yet he simultaneously found himself further in the dark as to how those words could have fought and lost so easily in the bid for Sasuke's favour. The need to fight for her so utterly weak in comparison to the need to maintain face in front of his clan. There must have been something more to it…

"Itachi-san? You look blank…am I going to have to add cognitive discrepancies to your list of symptoms?"

Attention immediately snapping back to her, he nodded quietly, still half absorbed in his thoughts.

"I'll try to do as your request, Haruno-san." A smile lit up her face at that point. A true smile. It was no wonder so many shinobi requested her at the hospital with a smile like that. Even the stubborn ones may find themselves compelled to visit with her behind the promise of such a reward at the end of it all. And yet Sasuke…

"Haruno-san, you mentioned you are familiar with this part of the library. Do you come here often?"

This woman had intrigued him for the third time in his life thus far. There was something left unravelled with the now halted relationship between this interesting kunoichi and his little brother and he felt, by what he was sure was more than just pure interest or that compulsion to seek information he usually got when something in his brain didn't add up, the need to find out what.

And so, he would seek to understand the enigma that is Haruno Sakura. To what ends, he didn't really know, but he did know one thing which he would find later to be so very true.

Like everything else about her, the ends were nothing he could have ever expected.

* * *

AN. Shitsureshimasu - A Japanese nicety one says when leaving the room before somebody else. Like "excuse me, please".

Okay. So I'm back in the writing mood. Beware, it may not last long. Depends how I feel after this chapter I guess.

With Sakura's little examination, the whole count to ten things is something I learned. If you get your patient to count to ten their pulse evens out. If it's still abnormal it's more likely to be down to an internal cause. With the throat thing, she's just feeling his glands, which get swollen when the body's under stress. My Mum used to do that to me with FREEZING cold hands.

Some of you were asking last time why the hell Itachi would be in this situation. Well, now you know.


End file.
